


Bite By Bite

by ladyoneill



Series: Lady O's Teen Wolf Bingo Stories [106]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: First Dates, Food Porn, Good Peter Hale, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-01
Updated: 2015-07-01
Packaged: 2018-04-07 01:29:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 842
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4244382
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladyoneill/pseuds/ladyoneill
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles finally gives in to Peter's attempts to ask him out.  Dinner is a bit of a revelation.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bite By Bite

**Author's Note:**

> Written for trope bingo amnesty because I suck and forgot about it. Goodish Peter (ignoring Season 4); of age Stiles. Prompt: food porn. Sadly no actual porn involved.

It's their first date. Stiles is still trying to figure out how he got talked into this. Having dinner with a former mortal enemy, sociopathic and/or psychopathic werewolf, possibly a zombie, isn't on his bucket list.

Okay, maybe buried deep in his psyche it is. The guy is so damn sexy.

It took Peter nearly a month to get Stiles to agree and he only did so after laying out numerous terms. The 'cannot dos', including talking points, is two pages long.

He's not really sure why Peter agreed to any of them.

And, yet, here they sit in the fanciest (and only) French restaurant in Beacon Hills, at 7:14 on a Saturday night near the end of his senior year in high school (he just turned eighteen--that was top of the list; no underage anything), hoping he doesn't screw up which fork to use with the appetizer in front of him (wait, pate fois gras on toast points doesn't require a fork, right?) or knock over the candle and set the pristine white tablecloth on fire.

He's wearing the suit his dad bought him for college interviews--he got into Stanford--and a red silk tie Lydia insisted on--only after hitting him upside the head several times for even considering going on a date with Peter Hale--and hoping his deodorant doesn't give out on him.

On the other hand, Peter, also decked out in a suit--dark gray with a subtle pinstripe and a blue shirt--but without a tie and the shirt unbuttoned at the collar because God forbid he not have a V shaped something on, looks calm, cool and collected as he sips a very expensive Chablis and lifts a spoon to his bowl of pink tinged broth--how do they make tomatoes into broth anyway?--with tiny little ravioli floating in it.

The piece of toast in his hand crumbles as Stiles watches Peter skim the spoon from front to back, slide it between parted lips, and delicately suck the broth down.

The look of such intense pleasure on Peter's face at the taste of tomato water makes Stiles' pants grow a bit tighter.

Jesus.

As he shakes off toast crumbs, he gulps, "Can you be more pornographic?"

Peter arches an eyebrow at him and shoots him a wolfish--hah--grin of all white teeth.

Jesus.

Feeling himself flush, Stiles tugs at his tie, loosening it a bit, before ducking his head to mumble, "I mean, it's supposed to be, y'know, bananas, cucumbers, hot dogs, whip cream..."

"Why would I subject my body to a hot dog? I admit, bananas foster is a favorite of mine but, really, Stiles, you need to widen your food horizons." He points with his glass. "Taste that pate before the toast becomes soggy."

Dutifully, Stiles slides the second piece of toast with a smear of goose live on it into his mouth and bites down.

Flavor explodes on his tongue and his eyes go wide.

After he swallows, he mutters, "I just ordered it because it was the most expensive appetizer. It's not supposed to be good!"

Peter chuckles. "Wait till you try the steak au poivre you ordered. They use the best green peppercorns here. I was surprised you didn't order the lobster thermidor. If you were going for expense, that is."

"Too messy. Glad I amuse you," he snarks back, stuffing more pate into his mouth.

"Oh, you always do." Peter grins--leers--and Stiles flushes even more, then watches the wolf suck down the rest of his soup in the most sensuous manner ever.

In between spoonfuls, he explains just why he enjoys the best of food--why he never hangs around for pizza night with the Pack and why you'll never catch him at McDonalds for chicken mcnuggets. Six years of bland hospital food will drive anyone with a respectable palate to eat only the very best in cuisine.

And, since half his money was returned, including that which spent months under Scott's bed in a sweaty gym bag, he can afford it.

The steak is just as good as Peter said it would be. He, meanwhile, dines on langoustines in an herbed butter sauce, never getting one drop on his chin or shirt, and with every bite savored, Stiles gets more and more turned on.

And knows that Peter knows it.

Damn werewolf nose.

As he wipes his lips on his linen napkin, Peter says softly, "Do you have room for dessert?"

Stiles stares down at his empty plate, only a hint of sauce left around the edges. Damn, that was good. "Always."

"I'm going to feed you chocolate mousse bite by bite."

"You're seducing me bite by bite."

The attempt at an innocent look makes Stiles snort, and Peter, not at all bothered by being caught, just shrugs. "And?"

Sighing, Stiles shrugs back. "Not sure why you want to do that, but, I'm always up for chocolate."

"They add just a dollop of whipped cream to the top."

"Jesus."

End


End file.
